


Every Great Success Story

by cinderlily



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-28
Updated: 2010-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 22:41:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/129909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cook finally gets it together to make his move forward just as Archie's world is about to fall apart. (Future Fic, Not AU) (very very very very loosely based on Say Anything. I mean VERY.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Great Success Story

**Author's Note:**

> As always I had an amazing group of people help me with this. From who offered a read even when she doesn't do fandom, to who had to deal with my rambling for two hours in a (locked car), to 's insanely in depth cleaning of all the parts or 's amazing response/beta that not only gave me the confidence to continue but meant more to me than I'll ever be able to put into a stupid little A/N. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart.

For years, Cook and Archie were just friends.  Two friends, close friends at times and not so close at other times. Cook admired him, was in complete awe of him if he was honest. He hadn’t really known at sixteen what he wanted to do in the next year, let alone the _rest of his life_. Yet, here was this guy—this kid—who walked into Hollywood week and blew the competition out of the water. He knew what he wanted, and crazily enough, he was actually _going_ for it.

So maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just friendliness but more of an infatuation on Cook’s part. He wanted to get inside the kid’s mind. He wanted to know just what made him tick. He took a shine to him, that was all.

Then there was a moment, five years after _Idol_ , where he was meeting up with some of the top ten for a quasi-reunion and realized that maybe it wasn’t a shine or infatuation or awe…

“I think I have a crush on Archie,” Cook stated, albeit quietly, to Michael over breakfast. It was just the two of them --none of the others had come down from their rooms yet-- but it felt like something that had to be said quietly. He couldn’t look Michael in the eye.

Michael’s laugh, loud and echoing in the otherwise empty room, startled Cook enough to jump an inch and spill some of the milk from his bowl of cereal.

“ _Hey_.”

Cook looked up to find Michael giving him a huge grin. “Sorry man, but _seriously_? Way to catch up with the fucking class.”

“I’m glad this is funny to you,” Cook groaned, taking a napkin to the spilled milk around his plastic bowl.

“We’ve been taking bets,” Michael added, popping an orange slice in his mouth.

Cook paused for a beat, swallowing and trying his best to collect what semblance of dignity he could muster. “… _We_? What _we_?”

“Top twelve, Seacrest, Cowell,” Michael shrugged. “Most of the crew from the tour. Fans…”

Cook put a hand up. “What the hell? I mean, maybe you and possibly Syesha? But Seacrest?”

“You guys were glued to each other’s sides. I was surprised that you weren’t together by the end of the tour, honestly.”

“He was _seventeen_ ,” Cook pointed out. “You thought I was a pedophile?”

Michael shrugged again. “By New Years, then. Or Manila. You two were sickeningly sweet. I’m talking cavities.”

“Conversation over,” Cook put a hand up to cover his eyes. “You suck as a friend, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Oh come on, Cookie, you know you love me.”

*

Of course the whole idea of having a –lord help him – _crush_ on David Archuleta, was that Cook couldn’t think of _anybody_ less likely to reciprocate his feelings. He was straight-laced as they came, went to services when he could, and still had his dad accompany him on half the trips he took. Granted, he wasn’t on _this_ trip, which was kind of a relief.

But it was like, now that he’d said the words out loud, now that he’d he said them to someone _else_ , he was well and truly doomed. Archie walked out of the room he was sharing with Jason and stretched and Cook felt momentarily that he was sixteen all over again, all hormones and no brains to back it up. He was doing dishes, thankfully, so he had something to distract himself with, but it wasn’t much.

“You need any help?” Archie asked, voice still a little sleepy and low. “I didn’t think you’d be up this early.”

Cook focused on the bowl in his hand, which had been clean probably a full minute beforehand. “My sleep schedule’s off.”

“I know the feeling,” Archie said from much closer than he had been, and Cook felt like turning around just to see exactly where he was. “I think Castro might sleep till noon.”

A silence fell between them, thankfully broken as Archie walked behind Cook and grabbed a bowl to make himself some oatmeal. Cook was thirty years old. Thirty years old and still making a complete ass out of himself because of a cru-- _thing_ for a guy eight years younger than him. He felt beyond ridiculous.

He drained the sink and braced himself to look over at Archie, who he found was curled up in the breakfast nook and blowing on a spoonful of oatmeal. Cook blinked at him, thankful that Archie’s distracted. It was weird to see the remnants of the kid he’d known in the guy sitting just a few feet from him.

His face had definitely narrowed out, his skin a little darker and his hair a lot longer than it had been. But the lips were there, the smile just barely raised at the corners even while he ate, and the ears that Cook had teased him for over the years.

“Sit with me?” Archie asked, the weird way the question turned into a nervous plea familiar after all the years they’d known each other.

Cook grabbed the last mug of coffee and slid into the booth beside Archie, even if it was against his better judgment. Even before his revelation he had never quite been able to tell Archie no.

“What are the plans for the day?” Archie asked, taking a sip from his milk and looking at Cook intently.

Just biting back a laugh, Cook shook his head, “You don’t get the point of vacations, do you, Archuleta?”

“So?” Archie quirked an eyebrow. “No plans for the day?”

“Give the man a medal.” Cook winked. “Three days of no plans. No interviews, no phoners, no obligations… you think you can swing it?” Archie genuinely looked a little taken aback, which amused Cook and kind of broke his heart at the same time. His schedule had been crazy, but he still knew when to take a break.

Archie took another bite of oatmeal and nodded, his smile widening a bit. “Well, I guess that means that I can finally kick your butt at Mario Kart?”

Cook couldn’t help the loud bark of laughter.

*

Halfway through the day, when the last straggler had made it up into the living room, Archie had to admit that something was up. Cook was acting… _weird_. Every time Archie was within five feet of him, Cook would get jumpy and uncomfortable. To make matters weirder, Michael had a weird grin on his face that really just creeped Archie out.

Maybe it was just the free time and the lack of things to do. Cook had been right; it had been a long time since he’d had time to just relax. Or maybe it was just the fact that he hadn’t really gotten a chance to hang out with any of them since… well. Forever. But either way he didn’t like it. Which was silly, he wasn’t the kind of guy who was into contact; usually HE was the one who jumped a foot in the air, but he’d grown used to Cook’s constant touching.

The way his hand would land on Archie’s back when Archie said something he didn’t mean to be funny. Or the random and kind of odd hugs he would get when he’d say something that made Cook smile – which was often.

He felt … sad? Lonely? No, that wasn’t right. He had six of his friends surrounding him, making noise and playing games. He should’ve been happy and relieved and relaxed but none of that was true. He was tense. He was almost _unhappy_.

He just couldn’t place why.

*

There was a porch behind the small rented cabin they had. It was where they planned to hang out after or before dinner. It had a huge grill and a row of chairs and if Cook were honest with himself he would say it was a slice of heaven. As it was, he constantly ribbed the group for being old and crotchety, watching the sunset in deck chairs.

When he went out in the middle of the afternoon, seeking just a little bit of time to himself, he was surprised to find Archie leaning against the railing staring out at the trees. He stopped in the doorway, thought about turning back, but then Archie turned towards him, with a genuine smile that faltered after only a few seconds.

“Need some space?” Cook asked, taking a step back before Archie held both hands up.

“ _No_ ,” he said, firmly, before he seemed to realize the force behind his voice. “I mean, um. No. I’m just getting some air. Do you… um… do you need some space?”

The unspoken _from me_ made Cook’s chest hurt. The concern that creased Archie’s eyes was just further proof that Cook had failed completely at keeping things cool. He walked towards the railing with as little hesitation as he could muster and then leaned his forearms next to Archie’s.

“Not at all.” He stared out. It really was a beautiful place, peaceful and quiet in a way that his life very rarely was. Archie relaxed beside him and seemed to move just an inch or so closer, the warmth spreading through Cook like a shot of whiskey.

Nothing he could think to say was anything less than horrifyingly embarrassing so Cook stood with his eyes firmly fixed on a mountain in the distance. He licked his lips and bit his cheek, both things he hadn’t done since his first real crush in probably third grade. All his dignity was gone now.

“Are you mad at me?” Archie was so quiet that it almost got lost in the albeit small space between them.

Cook jerked his head to look at him and knew he must look like a scared cat or possibly a deranged lunatic. He just… _that_ was the vibe he was giving off? He blinked. He exhaled. He pleaded with his brain to do something productive but it seemed to not want to do that at all.

“It’s just,” Archie started again.  “You flinch when I’m around and I know it’s been a while since we hung out and all but it’s work, right? We’re all crazy busy and maybe I should have made more of an effort to just like… tell everyone to go to heck and call you but I didn’t know it would hurt your feelings and I don’t want to have you mad—“

“Shut up,” Cook just stopped himself from putting his hand on Archie’s mouth. The look of hurt that replaced the nervous look made Cook wish he _had_. “I mean. Stop? Please? No, I’m not mad at you. Not even a little, man. I mean. Yeah, I wish we talked more, but I get it? If anyone in the world, the people here get what crazy feels like. So no worries about that.”

Archie frowned. “Then what is it?”

There was a long pause, possibly too long, while Cook collected his thoughts. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” Archie smiled, lopsided but it was still there. His head was cocked to one side like he was a bit confused. “But I thought that was what this weekend was for? Catching up with the gang?”

Cook inhaled. Of course he was failing at getting his point across. Maybe he needed Michael as his Cyrano or something – wait, that was not his best idea. He rubbed his face with both hands but smiled. “Exactly. That was what this weekend was for. But I miss _you_ , Arch. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you and had it been just you, you know?”

Still a bit confused, Archie nodded. “So do you want to make a break for it? Maybe go to town or something? I hear they have a few places. Though I thought we were aiming for laying low.”

“No,” Cook felt like he was in a demented Abbot and Costello routine. He swallowed around a ‘whose on first’ joke and tried again. “But maybe when we get back to Los Angeles we can work out a time to go to dinner?”

Archie’s smile went so wide that Cook’s chest ached. “Yeah, that would be totally awesome. I have to go do a couple of interviews back east, but would you want to get dinner when I get back? I have some songs I want you to hear, I’m really trying to get a new voice on this next record.”

“Awesome,” Cook mimicked. He didn’t think Archie got that he’d just been asked on a date but really, beggars couldn’t be choosers.

Suddenly, Archie’s arms were around him in a tight hug, something Archie still rarely initiated even after all this time. Cook inhaled.

“Wait,” Archie said, pulling back. “Do you have your acoustic?”

Cook cocked an eyebrow; was that even a question?

“Go grab it, I’ve got something I want to work on with you.”

Archie was in the house two seconds before Cook could form a retort of about this being a _vacation_. But honestly he didn’t care.

*

The four-day weekend went by way too quickly, though after the conversation with Cook on the second day, Archie felt like it was actually a vacation. There were still moments of weirdness that Archie couldn’t define but it didn’t matter as much. They played around with the chorus of a song that had been driving him crazy and after awhile Michael and Jason came out to play with it as well.

It was his favorite way to spend an afternoon, honestly, with his friends just goofing off. It didn’t feel like work when the people around you were willing to laugh when you messed up and didn’t look at you like you were costing them time and money. That was a part of the business that always bugged him. It wasn’t all the time, but it felt like a good number of people he worked with considered it actually work, and he hated losing the love of it.

Cook was the first to leave, an early flight that was taking him to DC to play a benefit concert. They all hugged, patted each other’s backs and Cook predictably teared up.  As he dug his head into Cook’s neck, his eyes began to water as well, but he stopped it before he pulled back.

“See you soon,” he promised, the tell tale crack at the end of it giving him away. He felt silly, they lived in the same city for Pete’s sake… at least sometimes.

Cook seemed to get it and gave him a second hug, tighter this time. “See you soon.”

Then maybe an hour later they had to do the same thing, this time with Brooke, Carly and Jason, all heading back to California for work. He felt bad that it wasn’t that hard this time, but he hugged them each tightly. Brooke and Carly both made him promise he’d call or at the very least text and he said he would. Jason joked that twitter was just the same.

Then it was just he and Michael. The house was weirdly quiet, having been filled to the brim with noise for days. He felt weird not hearing one of the others coming down the stairs or making plans. He didn’t even know what to say.

“Where ya heading?” Michael asked, breaking the silence.

Archie looked at his phone and frowned. He wasn’t actually sure. Somehow this made Michael laugh, but Archie had long since given up on trying to figure out what was funny about what he said.

“Um, New Jersey?” he said, about ninety percent sure. He looked up at Michael. “What about you?”

“Texas,” Michael smiled. “Stacey took Tuck down there to visit her family. Meeting up with her.”

Archie smiled back. He’d only really met Tucker once, but he’d seen all the pictures that Stacey sent regularly. It was almost hard to picture Michael as a dad, but he knew without a doubt that anything he did, he did well. “Tell them I say hi?”

Another silence. The car for Archie wasn’t going to be there for at least fifteen minutes and he had _no idea_ what he should be talking about. It was a common enough occurrence but most of the time there wasn’t a weird undercurrent. Which there seemed to be, like maybe they _should_ be talking about something,but Archie was totally in the dark.

Out of desperation he went into the kitchen and grabbed two of the remaining cans of Sprite left. He offered Michael one, who took it with a different smile than he’d had on earlier.

“He’s a good guy,” Michael offered, in a leap in conversation that Archie seemed to miss. “ _Cook_. He’s a nice guy.”

Archie nodded his head. “Yeah. Cook is awesome.”

Which was true. He loved Cook. Cook was silly and random and like, beyond intelligent. Of course Cook was awesome. He was _Cook_.

Michael sipped from his can and averted his eyes. “This feels really weird to say to you and I’m totally going to break a few rules of friendship here, but …  I’ve got to say that he isn’t as badass as he seems, so if you are going into this date with anything other than the right mindset I might have to hurt you.”

Archie gaped.

“And I really don’t want to have to hurt you, kid. I like you. A lot.”

“Thank you?” Archie said, unable to think of anything better to say.

There was a honking sound, and of _course_ it was his car. He grabbed at his bag and automatically turned to Michael, whose face had gone from serious back to smiling and happy. He was wrapped up in a tight hug, and lifted up because Michael _always_ did that to him.

“Good on ya,” Michael said, placing him down. “We’ve been taking bets on when you guys would figure this out for _years_.”

The car honked again before he could ask _who_ and _what_ the bets were about but he lifted his free hand in a wave.

It wasn’t until he was buckling himself into the back seat that the last few minutes sunk in. Had Michael just said ‘date’?

*

 

It turned out that just as Archie got back from the east coast, Cook was on his way to Canada for a week-and-a-half-long press/show junket. Which normally wouldn’t be that big of a deal: he wasn’t kidding when he said that he was used to things being put off because of his schedule. This time, though, this time it itched under his skin.

He didn’t cancel shows; he didn’t do that to fans. Through sickness and heartache and the worst times of his life, he **never** canceled. His fans were some of the most amazing people, even the crazy ones, and he owed it to them to show up and to be there for them. But… just once, he was dying to do so.

He just wasn’t sure “Archie said yes” would be a valid excuse, or at least not one that didn’t require a whole lot more explanation than he was actually prepared to give at the moment. So he texted and emailed and tried his best to not sound like a weird stalker when Archie was brought up in interviews (which he was, even a half a decade later).

He even gave himself a day of recovery time before he actually went on the date, because if he was going to do something, he was going to do it right.

In the month they were separated, something changed between the two of them, that was for sure. Archie had made an effort to actually text and call, which was comforting and yet unnerving. Their conversations seemed a little stunted and awkward, but he wasn’t the best on the phone and he knew for certain that Archie wasn’t either.

He emailed Archie most nights, the delete key a life-saving buffer from some really stupid sentences, and agreed on dinner at a restaurant that Archie had heard about through his agent.

Cook suggested they see a movie afterward, but Archie couldn’t find anything that they would both like, and made a casual comment about maybe someplace where they could talk. Cook tried not to count his chickens before they hatched.

He showed up in front of Archie’s apartment building to find that Archie was already outside. It left him a little disappointed that he didn’t get to do the walk up and knock on the door thing, but when he noticed that Archie was pacing, it comforted him. At least he wasn’t the only nervous on. He was telling himself that that was a good thing.

“Hey,” Cook smiled. “Long time no see.”

Archie’s smile was just as nervous and yet it was his usual blinding watt. “How was Canada?”

“Mostly cold and polite.”

Archie laughed and the ball of nerves in Cook’s stomach began to unravel.

*

There was something weird about the time between Michael’s out of the blue declaration of ‘date’ and the actual… well. Date. Archie spent the first few days desperately trying to figure out if he could get _out_ of said date without losing Cook’s friendship; because that was what he thought of it as. Friendship.

Dating could ruin everything, not that he had that much experience, but he knew the very basics of never dating a close friend. He didn’t want to lose Cook. He _couldn’t_ lose him. Distance and breaks from conversations were one thing, but _forever_? He couldn’t lose Cook like that. He just couldn’t.

But after brooding over it for the better part of a week, he did the only thing he could think of: he called his sister.

Once her giggling repetition of ‘I called it’ ebbed, Claudia was actually pretty helpful. She didn’t freak out, like he’d half feared she would, about Cook being a guy. She didn’t tell him that he was making the biggest mistake of his life. She didn’t even tell him that he had to go on the date. She just… laid out the truth in front of him and waited for him to connect the dots.

“So he’s one of your best friends?”

“Yes.”

“He makes you laugh?”

“Yes.”

“You’re comfortable around him?”

“Yes.”

“You’re attracted to him?”

He didn’t respond, but knew his sister well enough to assume she took that as a ‘yes’ as well.

“So, what’s the big deal? Go on a date with him. See if you click, you know, _like that._ ”

A knot formed in his stomach and his voice went tight. “What if we don’t?”

But then they did and he talked and he texted and every time he talked to or even about Cook everything seemed to make more sense. He was long past the freak out over sexuality: he hadn’t been exactly forthcoming with it but he was definitely comfortable with himself. He had to be.

Which meant he got to go on a date with David Cook. Which was kind of awesome even if not just a little bit terrifying. He hadn’t exactly planned on talking about it with anyone, other than Claudia of course, but when it slipped to his agent that he was planning on dinner with Cook, she emailed a list of ‘acceptable’ places within twenty minutes.

Most of them were big places that were apparently places to be seen and well, he didn’t want to be seen. Or he did? But he didn’t want it to become a circus. He remembered the look on Cook’s face when he said “just you and me” and he wanted it to be that, too. Just him and Cook and some time to catch up.

He spent who knew how much time trying to figure out which on the list was the smallest and most intimate – even though that word kind of made him squirm—and finally settled on a small seafood restaurant by the beach. He had never thought of movies as good first date material; they just seemed to be too impersonal and totally against the point of what a date was supposed to be.

So yeah, he _knew_ Cook. They didn’t have to have silly first date conversations about where they grew up and their jobs or anything but he did want to have time to just catch up. That was the point.

Before Cook picked him up, he’d changed his outfit about a half a dozen times. The place they were going wasn’t fancy by any definition but it wasn’t a hole in the wall. Besides it wasn’t the place, but the person he was going to dinner with. He tried to dress up but felt completely silly in a tie; Los Angeles wasn’t cold enough for a jacket even when it was late at night.

He felt totally ridiculous.

He settled on a polo and a nicer pair of jeans – could jeans be nice?—but he forced himself to leave his apartment before he second-guessed himself… again. He sat on the bottom step of his apartment for all of half a minute before the nervous energy made him pace back and forth. Cook had said he would pick him up at six; he was out front at five forty five.

When he saw the familiar red car, the butterflies started again but he forced a smile. Date or not, some of his favorite times were just hanging out with Cook.

*

They spent the better part of the dinner talking about nothing of any consequence. Songs that had been driving them crazy, random fan encounters, the occasional break at their respective homes. Cook couldn’t place where catching up with old friends ended and something more began, but he began to suspect something was up when Archie decided he was paying for the whole thing.

He grabbed his credit card and handed it to the waitress before she even asked if they wanted dessert, and Cook was taken aback by the forwardness of the action. So taken aback that he barely had a chance to fight it. He just tilted his head and tried to hide the flush of pink that he knew was spreading on his cheeks in the unfortunately bright restaurant.

After they left, Archie safely avoided the valet and pointed towards the short walk to the beach ahead of them. Cook smiled and felt a bit like a teenager all over again. He wasn’t sure where this new Archie was coming from but it was definitely not a bad thing.

They walked just long enough that they couldn’t see the lights of the restaurants. Archie was quiet, not rare but a little unnerving, and Cook made up for it by telling him all about his trip to Canada; from the poutine to the real live Mounties he’d seen standing guard outside an embassy.

Finally Cook had enough and sat down on the cool sand. It was early October and he couldn’t help but smile at the fact that back home, he’d probably be wearing layers. As it stood he wore a shirt, shorts and a light jacket. He loved the west coast.

Cook dug his feet into the beach, letting his toes curl in the grains of sand. He was thankful he had gone for the casual shorts rather than having to roll up his pant legs. Though really, it was kind of cute when Archie did it. Lord, he was thinking of Archie in terms of “cute”, when did that happen. He wasn’t even sure what the hell this was and he was pretty sure Archie had just as little clue and it was all messed up.

He stared at the water, which was oddly calm with little waves, the smell of the familiar mix of salt water and Los Angeles fog that slowly was becoming synonymous with home. He put his hands back behind him and leaned back on them to stare up at the sky.

“I forget there actually are stars in Los Angeles,” Cook said, then instantly regretted it. “I mean. That you can see the stars? I forgot you could _see_ them in LA.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught Archie nodding, which was a relief. He guessed if he could ramble to anyone it would be Archie. He looked back up and heard the soft familiar hum of Archie’s voice.

“ _I'll touch every star in the sky… so this is the miracle that I've been dreaming of…_ ”

Cook wondered if Archie even knew what he was doing. Half the time he knew for a fact that he didn’t, but that just made it even more endearing. Damn it. He turned towards him, mouth open to ask where the song was from but instead he was met with Archie’s face inches away from his.

“Wh—“

It wasn’t the most graceful first kiss. Cook’s mouth was open, Archie was smiling and somehow their teeth clicked. It wasn’t as bad as the time in high school he got his lip caught on Laura’s braces or the time that Grant tried to bite his tongue, but it was still pretty bad.

Still, it was _Archie_ and rather than ask ‘What the hell was that?’ when they pulled back, he shifted to a more comfortable position and showed Archie that he did in fact know how to kiss. He put his hand on the back of Archie’s neck and pulled him closer, mixing sand into the his hairline.

Archie moved his hand to Cook’s chest and pushed slightly, just enough to move him away. Cook went a little bit dazed at the sight of bright pink lips and glazed eyes. Archie looked so… debauched.

“ _Sorry_ ,” Archie exhaled, and Cook swore that even in the dark he could see him blushing.

He chuckled. “Trust me when I say that I’m not sorry at all.”

Which just made Archie blush harder.

*

Cook didn’t have to check the phone to know who it was.

“So are you a real boy now?”

He shucked off his shoes and turned the lights on. Dublin was giddily running around in circles at his feet. “Shut up, old man.”

“You’ve got to give me something here,” Michael pleaded. “You know that I’ve been getting texts from the girls all night. I’ve got to get some sleep sometime.”

Cook opened his fridge and grabbed a beer. “Bullshit. You’re just wanting it for yourself, you perv.”

“Oh yes, Cookie dear,” Michael drawled. “I need all the facts for my detailed accounts on the internet. You’ve got to give me something, why else did I buy Cook loves Archuleta dot com?”

“That’s getting you nowhere fast.”

Michael laughed. “You know you are going to tell me, just get on with it. Did you at least figure out if it was a date?”

“It was a date.” Cook couldn’t help the goofy smile on his face. He sipped happily at his beer, sprawled out on his couch with his dog at his feet. “It was a freaking good date.”

“Called it.”

Something in his stomach did a weird flip when he realized that he could care less. He could deal with the fact that he was going to get endless crap from not only his family but his friends as well. That if it actually leaked to the internet, the shit might hit the fan. He could deal with schedules and craziness. Because it _had_ been a freaking great date and there was talk of _other_ dates.

“You are smiling like a lunatic right now, aren’t you?” Michael broke into his thoughts.

Cook laughed. “Ugh, I don’t accept or deny that.”

*

Archie just made it in his bedroom before he grabbed his phone and hit the third speed dial on his cell phone. It didn’t even get through a full ring before his sister’s voice came on the line.

“ _Everything_.”

He knew full well it was a command and not a question – something that had annoyed him from the time he was a little kid but not so much right now. He pushed his hand into his hair and smiled.

“It was good?” Archie offered, admittedly lamely.

Claudia made a tutting noise. “Good. You are giving me good? _Cook_ , David. You went out with _Cook_. Elaborate.”

“Gosh,” Archie blushed, like he was sixteen and it was still his first date. “It was good? More than that, it was kind of amazing. I mean, Cook was _Cook_ , but maybe a little nervous? And he kept looking at me in this weird way that made me nervous. We went to this place that was by the ocean and then walked along the side of it and it was so awesome. I mean, I’ve lived here how long and I never just take a night to give myself a break. It was _amazing_.”

“That was the least descriptive ramble you’ve ever given me.”

Archie frowned. “How?”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“He’s Cook,” Archie blinked. “Why wouldn’t I see him again?”

Claudia sighed. “Like on a date, Dave. Are you going to go out again?”

Archie had to think about it. He _wanted_ to go on a date. He thought Cook did, too. Especially with the way the night had ended… but maybe he was reading into something. He remembered with painful detail the clack of their teeth during the first kiss. It wasn’t pleasant, but what came after was completely the opposite, warm and toe curling and all the things he would never ever tell his sister under pain of death.

“So did you get a kiss?” she asked, like she could read his mind. His prolonged silence caused a laugh loud enough that he needed to pull his phone back from his ear for a moment. When he got it back to his ear she added. “David James, first date? You sly dog.”

Archie put his hand over his face. “Oh my gosh, I can’t tell you _anything_.”

*

Cook planned on waiting it out a few days, possibly because he was still processing and maybe because he had no idea what he would say, but Archie was the one to call the very next day. In typical Archie fashion, he didn’t really mention the night before and rambled for a minute or so about an afternoon off and this really great Indian place until Cook cobbled together that it wasn’t just mentioning, it was _asking_ for something.

“You asking me to lunch?” he laughed. “Cause if not you are just being a Naan-tease.”

Archie didn’t answer immediately and even with years of experience of Archie on the phone Cook’s stomach went into a knot. Maybe he _was_ just mentioning it?

“Do you want to go?” Archie asked; the words rushed together and a little high pitched. “And maybe, um. Hang out afterward?”

Cook had a meeting at three; one that would probably require the jaws-of-life and a lot of genuine pleading to get out of, but the image of Archie all flushed and nervous and asking him on a date was a little too much for him. “Yeah. Of course.”

They met at the place – and seriously Cook wondered where Archie found these places – and enjoyed Naan and Tandoori chicken and something way too spicy for Cook’s taste. He manned up though and ate it, even if he could feel his sinuses draining and has had to chug down three or four cokes just to finish it. Archie didn’t even seem to bat an eyelash, sipping on his water like he was eating mashed potatoes.

Having covered the topics of the last few weeks the night before, they instead talked about the future. They both were crazy busy, which Cook had known beforehand but still didn’t like hearing. Archie was only in town for about four more days and wouldn’t be back until Cook was doing some touring. Cook’s return would be during a family thing and all in all they wouldn’t even be in the same state for a good two months.  

It made the rest of the lunch conversation a little stilted and uncomfortable.

*

Archie hadn’t actually planned out the whole “hanging out” thing when he’d called Cook. Actually he hadn’t even really known he was calling for a date until he’d stumbled into it. He felt like maybe he was thinking way too much about everything, but how could he not?

He just knew that he wanted it to be a chance to really hang out after the awkward realization that they weren’t going to see each other… or maybe the reminder of it? It wasn’t like they hadn’t been in the business for the entirety of their friendship.

It just wasn’t their friendship anymore, was it? Archie’s stomach clenched when he thought of the word. Not a friendship but a _relationship_. Maybe.

“I got the new Madden?” Cook offered. Archie wasn’t much for sports on gaming systems, it just felt silly, but he nodded. It was a decent enough excuse.

They both took their own cars, which gave him just enough time to have the minor freak out that he was going over to Cook’s. Alone. After they’d kissed the night before. He would call what was going on in his stomach butterflies but he was pretty sure that they would have to be titanium butterflies. Probably a dozen of them, at the very least.

Cook beat him home, naturally, and left the gate that lead into the front door of his house slightly open. Archie looked himself in the mirror.

“Oh my gosh, what are you **doing**?”

His reflection was stubbornly silent.

Cook, at least, looked nervous when Archie walked in the door. Standing in his foyer awkwardly, like he didn’t know whether he should have gone further in. Archie went to take off his shoes, the gesture reminding him that he had in fact been in this house before. That he knew Cook, that he wasn’t just starting a relationship, just continuing one. Or something. It somehow calmed him down.

When he stood back up, Cook was still there, or possibly closer. He was smiling, small, but happy with just that faint line of nervous underneath. Archie had the beginnings of a question on his lips but instead he got Cook’s lips tentatively on his. A simple brush of skin and when Cook pulled back Archie caught the familiar scent of Cook’s cologne. He leaned forward just to take a good long inhale.

“So,” Cook exhaled, Archie close enough to feel the warmth and smell the remnants of Indian spices.

Archie swayed for a second, feeling aware of how silly he was over what amounted to a peck on the lips. He thought for a second and smiled. “Guitar Hero?”

Cook’s laugh made him jump.

“Oh it’s _on_.”

*

They ended up playing Guitar Hero for a grand total of two songs before they both realized that they weren’t really into it. Or possibly it was because neither one of them could concentrate.  Either way it ended up being thrown aside for _Ghostbusters_ on Comedy Central. Cook owned it on Blu-Ray actually, but Archie liked that they censored out the questionable bits.

Cook shouldn’t have found that so entirely endearing. He had dignity after all. Or he did. But when Archie cracked up at Bill Murray ranting, Cook questioned if dignity was even going to be an option.

They started seated on opposite sides of the couch, leaning back at the seats with comical space between them. Cook let that last for all of ten seconds before he broke the silence and leaned across and kissed him again. He could definitely get used to being able to do that when he wanted to. Even more so, he could get used to the look of shock on Archie’s face each time he pulled back. The way his face tinted pink and his eyes glazed a little. The exhale that always came out like an ‘Oh!’

He catalogued it all and smiled when Archie moved right beside him. His eyes still on the screen, he leaned back onto Cook’s arm and shifted so his side was pressed alongside Cook’s. Cook just watched. fascinated at how calm Archie was, or at least seemed to be. He put a hand on Cook’s thigh and leaned his head slightly onto Cook’s shoulder.

After a moment Archie turned his head up to look at him, eyes innocent, lips curled up just slightly at each side. “What?”

“Nothing.” Cook bridged the last little bit and kissed him again. He almost laughed when Archie’s other hand landed on his chest. Who would have thought that Archie had _moves_. But then he was kissed again and he lost track of his thoughts after that.  

*

By the time that the credits ran, Archie was pretty sure he still could claim to never having watched it. He’d seen about twenty minutes total and even then he’d been distracted by the way Cook had been _so close_ but not touching him. It was like a magnet, the way he felt pulled towards him. Once Cook kissed him it was the permission he needed to curl up into his side.

He felt like he was sixteen again, the way he was just aware of Cook and everything he did. Back then he’d claimed that it was friendship but now he laughed at his own densness. He’d been crazy over Cook from the first time that he’d heard a stupid joke from him and laughed. It just took him a while apparently.

“What’re you grinning at?” Cook asked, his hand wrapped around the hand that Archie couldn’t seem to move off of Cook’s chest. He could feel the steady beat of Cook’s heart beneath his hand and the warmth even through the layers of clothing.   

He blushed. “Um. Just thinking about how things take time.”

“About that,” Cook said, looking away and something tightened in his chest. “I know we don’t have much time right now…”

“Three days,” Archie admitted a bit miserably.

Cook turned back to look at him and pressed a kiss on Archie’s temple. “I’ve kind of been waiting five years for this.”

“Me too.”

“You think we can make it a few more months?”

Archie took a steadying breath. “I think that depends.”

“On?”

He looked down at his and Cook’s hands; Cook was running his thumb back and forth on top of his wrist. “On if … if we try and do it together? I don’t think I want to go back to barely talking.”

“Hey,” Cook made him look up. “I didn’t mean we were going back to just friends. I just meant… I just meant we could figure it out. We can do this together. If you’re up to it.”

He kissed Cook, because he could. Even with the constant contact over the last hour and a half he liked the way the kiss felt brand new. It made his face warm and his lips tingle and his stomach twist.

“I think we can make it work,” Archie smiled against Cook’s lips. “Together.”

*

When Archie left four days later, they’d been around each other essentially non-stop. They’d traded off places, leaving only when one needed food or a change of clothing. It was that familiar honeymoon phase, where everything felt exciting and new and every time they kissed, Cook had that weird feeling like this was some elaborate practical joke.

It didn’t feel like one while he watched Archie pack, and even less so when he had to drop him off at the record label. He felt selfish, felt like asking for Archie to say screw it to whatever he needed to do, and for the two of them to just get out of town and go somewhere that didn’t require them to wear baseball caps, sunglasses and avoid paparazzi when they left the confines of their homes.

The first night was torture, the random lull of a solo Tuesday night.  

The second night not so bad but Cook still felt like he was just a little out of place.

The third day, possibly due to the insane amount of pouting on Cook’s part – though he would deny that – Kyle Peek showed him the wonder that was FaceTime on the iPhone and Skyping and things were just a little better.

Cook kept a mental calendar of just how many days had gone by, one week and then two. Each one different than the last; some days it seemed like Archie wanted to reach his hand through the screen and other days there was just something… not quite him. Cook thought it was the distance. (Or maybe he just hoped it was the distance.)

When there weren’t things to talk about, sometimes they just left Skype open and worked together. Archie hummed a lot when he wasn’t paying attention; Cook loved catching snippets here and there when it wasn’t just the usual random harmonies or melodies. He liked to think of it as his own personal game of ‘Guess the Song’.

As time went on Cook repeatedly caught the same bit of a song he didn’t recognize but was obviously in Archie’s head. Soon after it was in his, the melody repeating in a constant loop with no lyrics to join it.

“Okay man,” Cook said one night, startling an otherwise occupied Archie.  “You got to tell me.”

Archie frowned. “What?”

“What song is that?”

Archie ducked so that the only thing Cook could see was the pink of his ears. “I was singing again, wasn’t I?”

Cook smiled. “Yeah, you were. And if you keep up without telling me what it was I might go certifiable.”

“I _don’t_ know?” Archie pointed out.

Cook gave up the ghost and just hummed the part that he had, paused at the end to find Archie still looking blankly at him and then tried again. “It’s gotta have lyrics. I’m going crazy, Arch.”

“It doesn’t? At least not …. Um. Yet. That’s just a melody I’ve had in my head.”

“Try it again?”

Archie did, making Cook smile at how little prodding he needed to use now. The melody was simple, a slower tempo with a more ballad type feel. The part Archie had been humming seemed to be the chorus, repeated back two times in the middle. Cook tried to match it, his voice just a little too low for most of it.

“What if you tried it a quarter of an octave lower, just barely there. So that you can go up a bit from the beginning to the first verse.”

Cook hummed and when Archie mimicked him back, he grinned.

“Okay, we’re going to need lyrics.”

*

His father hadn’t traveled with him for years, so when he showed up at one of the random tour dates in Michigan, Archie knew something was up. His dad played it off as just visiting all the way through dinner and the concert. He handed him a huge bar of his favorite salt-water taffy, just like he had when Archie was a kid. It was ritualistic to a fault, except when his dad asked him to talk. Even the way ‘talk’ came out of his mouth was like a threat all on its own.

They sat on the little balcony outside of Archie’s room. “Everything okay at home?”

“Yes,” his dad waved away his concerns with a simple flick of the wrist. “Home is fine. It’s you we are worried about.”

The phone in Archie’s pocket began to vibrate and he grabbed it out and smiled at the picture of Cook facing up at him. With a ping of disappointment he sent it to voice mail and looked back up at his dad, distractedly. “Why are you worried about me?”

“That,” his dad pointed an accusatory finger at his phone. “Is why we are worried.”

“ _Cook_? Why?” Archie laughed. “You _know_ Cook. “

His dad sighed heavily. “We know Cook. We know the boy who was your friend five years ago, your competition six years ago.”

“Dad,” Archie rolled his eyes. “You know we never thought of ourselves as competition.”

“And you know that doesn’t change the fact that you were.”

Archie felt his hands tense and then release. “I don’t know how that matters now, Papa.”

“Have you been writing at all in the last few weeks?”

He bristled. “Yes, I have. In fact, I’m working on a piece right now.”

He leaned around his dad and grabbed a copy of the song that he and Cook had been working on off and on for a week. Across the top he had written ‘Nothing Beats You’, something that had been a joke on _AI_ but now felt tainted by his dad’s eagle eyes.

“That’s a duet,” his dad said, his voice low and annoyed. “Let me guess who you are working with.”

He didn’t answer.

“Listen, Davey. I’m not saying anything against Cook. He’s a great guy. I’m just saying you should think what kind of life this offers you. Two people who will never be in the same town, who will always be working on new CDs to be released in similar quarters making for _competition_. No home life…”  

“This is … my career,” he said through gritted teeth. “My _life_. I appreciate your dedication but can you trust me about this? Cook and I have been together for two months. We don’t have everything figured out but … “

A thought struck him. “What about if you and mom came out to LA? I mean. I get back in about a week and Cook should be there two days after that. We could do dinner, and you’ll see. I promise, you’ll see.”

His dad gave him a doubtful frown. “Okay, we’ll have to check our schedules but I do not see it being a problem. I wouldn’t mind talking to him face to face.”

Archie was struck with the idea that this might have been a very bad idea, just a second too late.

*

By the time the Cook and his friends landed in LAX a little past a week later, he was a bundle of nerves wrapped in strings that were about to burst. He was tensely looking over the crowd, way before he would be able to see Archie.

“You know, this would work better if your boyfriend wasn’t half your height,” Kyle mused.

Neil chimed in before Cook could snipe back. “You mustn’t dwell, not on _David Archuleta_ day.”

“I’m getting rid of all of you and replacing you with synth machines,” Cook threw over his shoulder, even if he knew that none of them would believe it. He bumped into a small group of older ladies and apologized profusely, thankful it wasn’t the teen girls on the other side.

He caught sight of Archie, low-slung hat and sunglasses doing nothing to hide the trademark smile on his face. He jogged the last few feet and grabbed him in a bear hug, which he received an indignant squeak of annoyance about.

“Hey,” he nudged Archie’s shoulder. ”Long time no see.”

Archie rolled his eyes. “You saw me on Skype like six hours ago.”

Cook pecked Archie on the cheek. “Couldn’t have done that six hours ago.”

“ _Cook_ ,” Archie blushed. “People could see.”

He knew that, but wasn’t caring at the moment. “Take me home, why don’t you?”

“Where’s your stuff?”

“Being sent to me,” Cook shrugged. “Don’t worry, I brought my nicest Van Halen shirt for dinner tomorrow.”

The doors to the outside clicked, and Archie practically swooned. “You did _not_.”

Cook loved being back already.

*

“What are your plans for these next few weeks?”

Archie looked from his mother to Cook and wondered for the three hundredth time why he’d thought this was a good idea. They’d known each other for years, had probably been to this exact same dinner at least a half a dozen times and yet he felt like his chair was actually formed out of pins and needles.

“If you ask my record company, I’m writing,” Cook laughed and Lupe smiled. “But to be honest, I was hoping to get some time to relax. It’s been a long few months and even just being in the same city with Archie feels pretty nice.”

He would blush if it wasn’t for the warm familiar feeling of Cook’s hand on his thigh and the smile Cook was beaming at him. So instead he just grinned back goofily, his cheeks aching at just how much he’d been smiling since Cook had gotten off the plane the day before.

“David has an album in the works,” his dad’s voice broke both of their concentration on each other. “He spends most of his time working.”

“ _Dad_.” – “ _Jeff_.” Archie and his mother both warned – Archie refused to admit his was more of a whine.

Cook squeezed his thigh under the table. “I wouldn’t want to get in the way. I’ll take the time I can get.”

At this Archie did blush. He felt like he was in high school, or possibly middle school; his parents grilling his boyfriend and setting up curfews and rules. He was in his twenties and hadn’t lived at home since he was fifteen; he deserved at least a little respect here.

“I work better with Cook around,” he said with a mostly forced smile, meeting his dad’s surprised eyes and trying not to flinch. “Plus, we have a song we are working on together. So maybe I can multi-task.”

His mother looked at him, a small smile and something like pride in her eyes. Cook just smiled beside him.

*

The next morning he’d agreed to meet Andrew at a coffee place. Cook wasn’t delusional, he prepared himself for the third degree from the moment they sat down and wasn’t disappointed.

“Meeting the parents so soon,” Andrew said, his voice a high impersonation of their mothers. “What are your intentions, David Roland?”

Cook laughed. “Dishonorable as usual.”

“Just what I like to hear,” Andrew dropped the voice and clapped his brother on the shoulder. “How’d it go?

“You realize I’ve known Jeff and Lupe for a while now, right?”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Well that was before you corrupted their dear sweet Davey with your wily ways. Don’t tell me it wasn’t different.”

“Lupe seemed pretty casual,” Cook started and then sipped his coffee to avoid the inevitable. “Jeff looked like he wanted to level a shot gun at my head.”

“He understands his son is in his twenties, right?”

Cook shrugged. “I’m getting the feeling Jeff doesn’t think that matters at all.”

“Controlling?”

“That’s putting it pretty mild,” Cook muttered. He knew it probably wasn’t his place to talk about it. It wasn’t like it was something he was going to change. His phone started playing the opening notes of ‘Everlong’ in his pocket and he moved quickly to quiet it before everyone, or more specifically his brother, could place it.

The smile Andrew had on told him it was too late. “You’re such a fucking _girl_.”

He rolled his eyes, the stupid smile on his face proved it was kind of true. He pressed send and turned away from his brother’s laughter. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Cook had to plug his finger into his other ear; Archie’s voice was so low on his phone. He pulled back to check that he hadn’t hit the volume down but he hadn’t. “What’s up?”

“Can I come over?”

Cook’s fingers tightened reflexively around his iPhone. “You know you don’t have to ask. I’m with Andrew right now, you want me to head home?”

“Um… yeah. Please?”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

He disconnected the call but stared at the phone for a few seconds after, like maybe it would flash a text saying ‘JUST KIDDING’. Because that? Was not a good tone in Archie’s voice. That was a familiar tone, but not one he wanted to hear. He swallowed and looked over at a concerned Andrew.

“I’ve gotta go.”

Andrew didn’t even make a joke to lighten the situation, he just pointed to the door. “Yeah… go.”

As if the call was not enough, Cook could tell something was wrong when he answered the door thirty minutes later to find Archie standing uncomfortably in front of it. He knew he had a key, Cook had _given_ him one months beforehand. It wasn’t like he was supposed to be a guest anymore.

Even without that, the tense lines around Archie’s eyes, the tight-lipped almost frown, it was like Archie was a dead man walking. If it wasn’t making Cook’s whole body tense, it might actually  had been laughable. He’d never seen Archie like it before, not even when they’d fought or when he was frustrated with a song.

“Hey,” Archie shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Can I come in?”

It took a second for him to realize that he was in the dead center of the doorway, and dumbly Cook opened the door wider and took a step back. Archie walked through and Cook followed, because really what else was he supposed to do? He followed him through the arch, down the hallway and into the living room where he put the sheets of paper Cook hadn’t noticed down on the coffee table and turned to face him.

“It’s the song,” Archie said, pointing unnecessarily to the stack of paper. “I… I brought it for you.”

Cook swallowed around a weird lump in his throat. “That’s great, but couldn’t you just give it to me tomorrow? We have studio time together at one, remember?”

“I canceled.”

“You **what**? Can I ask why?” Cook knew he was starting to sound angry and annoyed but damn it—he _was_ angry and annoyed.

Archie averted his eyes, which only made the blood in Cook’s veins feel hotter. “I’m going back to Murray for awhile.”

“Is … everything okay with your family?” Cook tried, and the sick part of him wanted that to be what was happening. He knew that it was wrong but something told him that that would be the only positive outcome of what Archie was about to say.

“Everything with my family is fine,” Archie said, slow and soft. He finally looked back at Cook and swallowed. “It’s me. I need to try and work out some things out… on my own.”

If he could, Cook would have laughed. Instead he let out some mixture of a bark and a choked off sob. “Did you actually just say it’s _you_? ‘As in it’s not you it’s me?’”

“Cook,” Archie pleaded, tears in his voice but Cook averted his eyes.

“It’s your dad, right? Your dad and his views on … on _us._ You are letting him win.”

“I am not letting him win.” For the first time Archie sounded at least a little affronted. “He just. He had some valid points. I’ve been distracted; I’ve pulled away from my family. I need to … “

“ _Straighten up and fly right_ ,” Cook said, surprisingly devoid of the emotions he felt.

Archie didn’t say anything for a long moment and then moved forward as if he was going to touch Cook. Cook flinched away, took a long step back and almost tripped over his ottoman. “I’m sorry?”

“Get out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“GET. OUT,” Cook said, finally looking back at Archie. He felt the tears in his eyes, knew that it was only a matter of seconds before they spilled out and over. Hated how he wore his emotions on his sleeve. Archie looked like he might cry too, but he was frozen only a foot away from Cook.

Archie moved, finally, and had to pass by Cook. Cook stood stock-still and waited for the door to shut behind him before he leant his head forward and rubbed at his eyes with both hands.

*

After the dinner with his parents he’d been met with his father’s concerns.

At first Archie almost laughed it off, really. He was an adult; his dad was just having trouble dealing with it. But the words his dad used, the way he brought everything to the table with such logic.

His album was already off timetable because he’d been distracted. Not that the distraction was that bad, but he would take Skyping with Cook over sitting hunched over his piano anytime. He hadn’t been that happy in years, he was making up for lost time.

But his dad had a point. A point about making promises to people, about breaking those promises. Like with his record company expecting songs, or with his church and the fact that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been. He trusted his dad’s point of view without question. Even when his dad left LA and wasn’t his agent, he’d been Archie’s advocate for years.

By the end of the night Archie had talked it through with his father and it seemed like a good idea; a painful one, one that he wouldn’t take lightly but the right thing to do. He thought that when he got into his car, when he drove the twenty-minute ride between his apartment and Cook’s condo. He even thought about it when he walked up to the door and rang the bell.

It was the look on Cook’s face in the living room. The anger and the hurt laced with exhaustion that made Archie’s stomach roll and his heart hurt and yet it was too late. He had to do it. He had to. He knew it. It was just the only way that things would work out.

In his car, after, he had to pull off to the side of the road and take long deep breaths to keep himself from falling apart completely. He knew that the right path was rarely the path of least resistance but hadn’t realized how much it had to hurt.

By the time he got back to the apartment his dad was waiting. Archie knew that the right response was a nod or possibly a smile. But it didn’t matter, his dad knew. His dad smiled at him like he won some sort of award and _patted his back_.

Nothing felt right and his dad was acting like he had made this great decision. He started to feel sick to his stomach, but the apartment was empty except for the pieces they rented. They were going back to Murray for a while. So he could focus on his writing. On his album. No – like his dad had called it – unnecessary distractions.

He was leaving LA. He’d left Cook.

“I’m so proud of you, David.”

His dad’s words gave him the last push and he found himself propelled to the nearest sink. What little breakfast he had stomached that morning was gone.

*

It had been a month, a month and three days, to be exact. He was acutely aware of days passing, but that was nothing new. He was always that way after a break-up. His mom always said it meant that he had a good heart, but that was never as comforting as she wanted it to be. He would much rather be an insensitive jackass than wake up to the reminder that he was completely alone and that he hadn’t had a chance to do anything about it.

There were things to distract him, studio time and interviews and shows. It wasn’t like he spent every day pining in a dark room or anything. It was just a constant reminder, an ache that really didn’t seem to want to go away.

His friends were doing their best, but the more they red, the less he wanted to be helped. He put up a wall, made excuses when he could and buried himself in work so deep that by the time he was though, he would probably have four albums worth of material.

Except ‘Nothing Beats You’. The sheets of music, a mixture of Cook and Archie’s messy handwriting, sat on the edge of Cook’s desk. He knew that he should throw it out, burn it, or at least file it away but he couldn’t. It was the one last tangible reminder left. So he left it there and tried his best not to look at it –mostly he failed at that.

He woke up the morning of the month and third day in his condo, still off to one side of the bed even if the other side was perfectly made up. He stared at the ceiling for a while, and then rolled out of bed with a little bit of effort. Maybe thirty was actually catching up with him.

It was a rare day where he had nothing really going on. Usually this was a day that would be filled with DVRed episodes of _Always Sunny_ and maybe an hour long jam session that would amount to nothing more than noodling on his guitar and making up random silly songs. Somehow none of that seemed appealing in the least.

He brushed his teeth and put on his most comfortable jeans and a white tee shirt that had seen better days before he stumbled into the kitchen to make himself some coffee. Not that it would help him think any clearer but maybe it would make him feel just a little bit more human.

The machine dripped slowly, or maybe it was just the fact that he was watching every single drop as it came down. He braced himself on either side of the counter and lamented his inability to suck it up and just accept that those stupid ‘one cup’ coffee makers made subpar coffee but at a quicker pace. He always thought that, but only before he had his first sip of Kona or fresh Columbian brew. Then he knew better.

A ring at his doorbell drew his attention from the steady dripping of the machine and he blinked. Who would be visiting at this time on a Sunday. His stomach tensed. He was about to be proselytized to. What a way to start the day.

He ran through the options of inappropriate shirts he had in his closet, thought about blasting Metallica or maybe putting on really thick eyeliner but was too tired to do any of it. Besides his mother would fly out to kill him, even if he didn’t tell her, she would just _know_.

Braced for a possible discussion of Water Towers or maybe –even worse—a nice smiling Mormon boy in a white shirt with a black tie, he was met with the unexpected. A Mormon boy wearing a worn out gray shirt and jean shorts. He wasn’t smiling in the least, the look on his face screwed up and red from obvious pain and tears.

Cook’s heart leapt up to his throat and he stared, dumbfounded.

“My parents are getting a divorce,” Archie blurted out.

He knew he was supposed to move, to do something and to say something, but his brain was still processing the basic facts. That he was standing there, probably looking like a hobo with too long of a beard and disheveled hair and Archie -- _Archie_ \-- was standing in front of him. He hadn’t seen or talked to Archie since… well. Since. Yet there he was. Looking painfully young and hurt and Cook just couldn’t quite put it all together, like a puzzle that was missing a few pieces.

“Your what?” he offered dumbly.

Archie’s face went from scrunched to a weird blank for just a second and then crumpled again. “My dad … my dad was cheating on my mom with a pros-s-titute. This wasn’t the first one, apparently and TMZ picked it up, then Extra, then… gosh it’s _everywhere_. My mom is leaving him and moving, she doesn’t know where. And my dad is … he’s trying to talk his way out of it but… he can’t. There’s proof, so much proof.

“And all I could think was I need to get back to Cook. I needed to find you. I’ve felt that way for a month but this… I _need_ you.”

Every muscle in Cook’s chest tightened and he grabbed Archie by the arm and led him into the house. It didn’t take any effort, Archie felt like a rag doll in his hands. He led him to the living room and got him to a chair, ignoring the fact that the last time they’d been there was for an entirely different reason. He pushed the memory back and sat beside Archie, silently waiting for him to either go on or just start crying. _Cook_ felt like crying.

“He preaches to me about moral obligations and then… then he….” Archie stuttered, his eyes fixed on some point in the distance and Cook couldn’t blame him for not wanting to say it. “He told me what we had was just lustful, a sin. I _love_ you. How is that lustful? And a _sin_? He … he slept with…”

Cook caught Archie in a hug just as he looked like he was going to list forward and heave. Archie’s face was hot and Cook felt the tears start against his neck. He wrapped an arm around Archie and used the other one to stroke at the base of Archie’s neck.

What was he supposed to say in that moment? Was he supposed to apologize—that would be absurd—or try and say it wasn’t going to be as bad as it seemed –which would be a bold faced lie?

When he caught sight of Archie’s face popping up on the small side bar of upcoming news he grabbed the remote and shut it off. He hadn’t even remembered turning the TV on. He didn’t need to see another round of people splashing his problems around so casually.

He waited out the choked off sobs and wasn’t surprised to find Archie asleep after a few minutes of silence. He did his best to just get him to lie back and not wake up. Took off the tennis shoes and socks and moved him into the most comfort a love seat would afford him.

As soon as he could get to his feet, Cook was pacing. It was like something was boiling inside of him, perhaps his blood or maybe just pure adrenaline. He thought about going out and running until he was dead tired, but didn’t want to leave in case Archie woke up.

He grabbed his computer and against his better judgment googled what the news/gossip sites were saying. After only three clicks he shut his computer down. Paparazzi without facts were scary enough, paparazzi with proof – photographic no less – were pure hell.

Finally he flipped open his phone and hit speed dial, walking a little ways down the hall with it pressed to his ear.

It was answered after the fourth ring.

“Thank fuck.”

“So you saw,” Michael answered.

Cook ran a hand through his hair. “Saw? Archie is passed out on my couch. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.”

“Well, shit.”

*

Archie didn’t have to open his eyes to know where he was. The familiar scent of Cook’s house was the closest Archie felt to home in years. It did take a second to realize why he was curled up on the lumpy loveseat in Cook’s living room, face dug into a throw pillow and covered in a Chiefs blanket.

Then everything kind of slid into place. The break-up, the time spent apart… the reason he’d shown up at Cook’s place in the first place. He let out a shaky breath and felt the sting in the corners of his eyes. He opened both of his eyes and had to blink in the moonlight to clear up the room.

He was shocked to see Cook on the couch across from him. He stared at Cook’s closed eyes and felt a pang of guilt at how uncomfortable Cook looked. He rubbed at his eyes with his flat palms, tried to convince himself that the moisture was just left over from sleep.

He slipped his feet onto the hardwood, momentarily caught off guard by the lack of shoes and socks but got back on track when he saw Cook shift and flinch in his sleep. He moved around the coffee table and knelt down to shake Cook’s shoulder.

“Fwah?” Cook jumped and his forehead bumped Archie’s.

They simultaneously let out an “Ow!” but Cook added a colorful expletive just afterwards.

“Sorry,” Archie said, hand on his forehead to rub. “I um… didn’t mean to startle you.”

Cook seemed dazed for a second before recognition hit. “Dude, you’re awake.”

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” Archie said, voice soft in the already quiet room. “I would have guessed where you were.”

“Didn’t think you would want to wake up alone.”

The look of genuine concern on Cook’s face made Archie want to say a lot of things. He wanted to tell him that he didn’t want to wake up alone, that coming over was the best decision he’d made in a long time and that he’d _missed him_. But Archie’s chest was tight and as such he could only get one word out. “ _Thanks_.”

*

For the next few days Cook felt like he was walking on eggshells. Archie was quieter than normal, his smile a little muted, but other than that it seemed like nothing was different. Except everything _was_.

They hadn’t talked since Archie had told him that he needed to focus on other things for a while. The word ‘break-up’ still didn’t seem the right explanation for what that had been. It’d warped Cook, like all break-ups in the past but he hadn’t harbored any anger towards Archie; not that he had actually tried.

He just felt tired and aching through the whole thing. Aching for the friendship he’d lost, aching for Archie to be back in his life but also he ached for what it must have been like for Archie. Which was levels of absurd he hadn’t experienced in previous relationships.

It was a silent agreement that Archie would just stay with Cook for a while. From what Cook could ascertain, Archie’s house was being watched like a hawk by the paparazzi. A few had stationed themselves around Cook’s place too, but none had caught sight of Archie as of yet so it was as safe as it could get.

But Archie had taken the spare bedroom the second night, and the night after that, leaving Cook to wonder just where they stood. Not that he would ask. He could be dense at times, but he got that where their relationship stood was probably the last thing on Archie’s mind.

Cook tried his best to distract Archie by keeping him as busy as he could while mostly under house arrest. They watched movies – he popped in _Love Guru_ the first night for old time’s sake and watched it once every other day after that – played video games, ordered in for most meals.

They each had obligations to be met but both seemed to do the bare minimum to get by. Cook played music for Archie, who seemed comfortable enough with adding in harmonies when called for, but never sang on his own. It was a weird thing to witness; it left Cook a little uneasy. After years of Archie being his personal iPod/theme music, the silences seemed to multiply ten fold.

Lupe, who seemed to be taking it with suspicious calm resolve, called to check on Archie every day and Cook would try and lie – like she needed another thing to worry about – but it never worked. He wondered if it was a skill all mothers had, to see through bullshit. Inevitably every conversation would end with the same back and forth.

“I’m glad he has you,” Lupe would offer, and Cook would have to swallow the urge to say he wasn’t sure if he had him or not.

“Of course, it’s what friends do,” he’d respond instead.

Lupe would tut into his ear. “You are so much more than that.”

He didn’t know if the conversations made him feel better or worse.

*

Claudia called him every day without fail. She asked him if he was okay, asked about Cook, and then gave a complete run down of what was happening with the rest of the family. It was a ritual that he could live without but he guessed that it was his penance for not actually being there.

His siblings were apparently all taking it differently, with Amber and Jazzy closing ranks and acting like everything was fine and Daniel acting out in ways that he never really thought his brother would. Claudia seemed to be taking over the role of parent and protector.

He never asked about his mom and Claudia never told. What was there really to say?

His mother called every few days, chatting amicably like nothing at all was wrong. The only time she’d mention anything new was when she’d talk about the house hunting she was doing. There had been talks about moving back to Florida -- his mom wanting a fresh start -- but that ended when Amber had a breakdown over moving while still in school. So she talked about buying a smaller house and living for the next few years in Murray.

The house Archie considered his childhood home was on the market. Archie didn’t put his opinion in, even if he wanted to beg her to not sell it. He knew it was childish but the idea of never being able to sit on the porch of that house or lay on the floor in the living room with his siblings broke his heart.

In return, Archie would tell his mom about the music he was working on, the flow of the album. She asked him every single time about the song he and Cook were working on together and Archie always made up some reason about why it hadn’t gone any further.

Truthfully, he wasn’t even sure how to bring it up to Cook, to ask where –or if-- he’d kept the papers Archie’d left with him.  Things with Cook were different now, which Archie was aware was his own doing. He saw how carefully Cook was treading around him. He was thankful for that, mostly. Even if some days he almost wanted Cook to just _do something_.

Then there were the phone calls, text messages and emails from his father. All of them were deleted without a second guess. Even just seeing the name in his inbox left him nauseated and upset.

*

Usually when he didn’t immediately recognize an area code he was smart enough not to answer. He’d only had to change his phone number three times since Idol but he always felt that itchy nervousness about it. It was a pain in his side having to switch all the numbers over and getting the new number out to the people he cared about.

But this time he recognized the area code, 801, Murray, Utah. He knew he had most of the Archuletas in his phone already but Lupe had a habit of calling him from random places – she still wasn’t that great with cell phones – so he picked up.

When he heard the voice on the other end of the line, he instantly regretted it.

“ _Jeff_ ,” he didn’t know he could inject such venom into one name but he did.

“David.”

He should have hung up, but he didn’t. What anger he’d had in his voice was pale compared to the sound of hope in Jeff’s and even if he hated the man for what he was doing to a family he loved as his own, a part of him couldn’t just shut it down completely. Weirdly, he was pretty sure that was something he’d picked up from Archie.

“What do you want?” Cook asked, moving from the living room and into the office. Archie had claimed he needed a nap a while back but the last thing he wanted was for him to wake up to find Cook on the phone with Jeff. He already felt like he was walking on broken glass around him.

Jeff cleared his throat. “I’m in LA.”

Cook tensed.

“I … I’ve tried calling David. I’ve tried emailing him. I’ve tried everything and I’m getting nothing in response.”

“No offense man, but you really don’t deserve a response right now.”

“I would like to speak with you.”

 _Not on your fucking life,_ Cook thought nastily.

“It’s for David. _Please_.”

He swallowed the anger that was not so slowly rising in the back of his throat. How did he think he knew what the hell was for Archie or not? He tightened his empty hand into a fist and then relaxed.

“I’ll give you fifteen minutes.”

“Can you meet right now?”

Cook frowned. “No.”

“Tomorrow?”

He had joint studio time booked with Archie but he figured putting it off too long wasn’t going to help at all.

“I can get out around eleven. Seriously though. Fifteen minutes.”

“Where at?” Cook could tell Jeff didn’t like the fact that he was being told what to do. Cook wasn’t too proud to say that it kind of felt good.

“Starbucks by the studio.”

“See you there.”

*

They’d decided to take a small break so that Cook could grab some coffee… which had been weird. Cook seemed off the whole morning and though it was probably nothing, it made Archie nervous. So he did the first thing that came to mind and called his mom to ask what he should do.

“You need to make a decision, mijo.” His mother’s voice was soft but still had that underlying maternal edge she’d used with him whenever he’d been in trouble as a child. “You aren’t being fair to him.”

Archie knew she was right. She had a habit of doing so. But it still felt wrong to even be talking about it with his mother when she was going through what she was. He looked down at the paper in front of him, the lyrics for a song that he’d started months before stared back at him. It was about Cook, naturally.

Words like _warm_ , _happy_ , _safe_ , and _home_ popped up all over the page. All of which were still true even though he hadn’t felt many of those emotions since his father’s transgressions. The closest he came to it were the times he let down his guard around Cook.

“I love him,” he said, surprising himself. It was true… he knew it was true, even if he’d spent a month denying it.

His mother exhaled. “Of course you do.”

"But I'm scared."

"Of course you are."

He chewed on his thumbnail and looked back down again at the sheet.

"What do I do?"

"I think the first thing you should do is talk to him. He's just as unsure about where you stand as you are. He just doesn't want to push you."

Archie didn't even want to know why his mom knew this, or how she did. He could chalk it up to mother's intuition but he knew better than that, knew his mother had been checking up on him. A wave of guilt rushed over him, he wasn't the one who she should be worrying about right now.

"How are you doing, mama?" he asked, his heart hurting like it did every time he thought about everything that was going on.

She tutted. "I'm ... I'm fine."

That was a bold faced lie if he ever heard one. " _Mama_."

"Okay, okay. I am not fine. I am heartbroken and embarrassed and horrified. I am angry with your father and sad that a part of my life is ending that I hadn't thought would ever end but ... things happen. Things happen that are out of our control and we have to take them as they come to us. Trust in our Heavenly Father to not give us more than we can bear. I have people who love me and I have five amazing children. So for now I am fine, okay?"

Archie blinked back tears. "I wish I could be there right now, mama. I wish I could hold your hand and make things better."

"You are where you need to be," she sounded just as choked up as he felt. "There are things you need to do, mijo. You're a grownup now and you have someone who loves you so very much that he is willing to wait for as long as you need. Cherish that ; cherish him. That is something you can do for me, comprendes?"

He rubbed an errant tear away. "Si mama. I will, I promise. Te amo."

"Te amo, mijo."

The phone went dead and Archie slipped it back into his pocket. His hand went automatically to his chest, rubbing small circles at the ache that rested in his rib cage. He looked at the clock. Cook should be back soon; he'd just gone out for a bit.

There were things that needed to be said; he knew it. He’d been silent long enough. His mother had a point; even if Cook was willing to wait it out Archie didn't want to make him do so. He wiped his face with his sleeves and looked back at the lyrics. The song was simple enough, a love song. But he took out his pencil and started to write notes around the edges.

Because it wasn't just a love song, it was so much more.

*

The only way he could think to get out of the studio was Cook telling Archie he had a craving for a latte and space to work on a chorus. He had to keep the story close to the truth, as he felt bad enough lying outright to Archie when asked where he was going but as soon as he sat down he was sure it was the right thing to do.

Jeff looked tired and sipped at his drink with a scowl.

“I’ve got to get back to the studio,” Cook started. “What do you want?”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of David for weeks, he isn’t taking my calls,” Jeff repeated from the night before.

 _Can you blame him?_ was held back through sheer will alone. “He’s been in the studio, too. Working on the next album.”

“Don’t try that crap on me,” Jeff spat, for the first time looking at Cook. “I know David’s schedule. He could still answer the phone.”

Cook ripped at the corner of the banana bread he’d bought. He hadn’t even been hungry but knew he would need some distraction for a moment just like this. “Maybe you should try giving him time and space. No offense man, but you fucked things up pretty bad.”

“You don’t know what’s best for him,” Jeff said, teeth gritted and eyes averted. “He’s just confused.”

Cook fought the urge to yell or get violent; instead he put his hand up. “If you think Archie is confused about anything, you don’t know him like you think you do. But you know what? Even if that’s true, it doesn’t matter.”

“How doesn’t it matter?” Jeff’s face was red and when he asked the question a bit of spit flew towards Cook.

“Because, he is one of the most driven people I know. Probably because of you and your singlemindedness. He doesn’t need me to know what’s best for him, he _knows_. He’s probably got more knowledge than Simon Cowell. And if he’s confused? I’ll be there to figure it out with him, for as long as he wants me to be.”

It was probably a bit of an over share, considering that he knew it made the man uncomfortable but mostly that just made it better. Jeff had a muscle in his neck that popped out when he was angry; Cook couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

After a moment it seemed like they’d started a staring contest without Cook knowing. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. The silence was awkward, too long and broken by Jeff’s angry puffs of breath.

Cook was about to get to his feet when Jeff made a motion to stop him.

“I need to talk to him.”

“He’ll talk to you when he’s ready.”

For a half a second Cook could almost feel bad for Jeff. His eyes were hollowed out with black bags, lips dried and stubble too long and scraggly; but then he remembered the look in Archie’s eyes the day he showed up at Cook’s door; the pain that Archie _still_ had with him just lingering below the surface.

Jeff looked away and Cook took the moment to get to his feet. He wasn’t willing to play therapist for a guy who he wanted to punch. It wasn’t good for his mental health. He made his way to the trashcan and threw away his barely sipped coffee.

*

“I thought you went to get Starbucks?” Archie looked up at Cook and his empty hands. He cocked his head.

Cook shrugged. “Drank it on the way back.”

It wasn’t like Cook was a bad liar, but even still Archie could see there was something not being said. He forced himself to look down at the sheet music in front of him, even if it seemed to be written in Sanskrit at that moment.

Archie’s tongue went out to run along his dry bottom lip. He put his hand through his hair. His brain, which had been kind of working on the base instincts of eat-sleep-work for the last few weeks, had finally seemed to wake up after the phone call with his mother. The fact that he’d spent the better part of his morning working on the song that had started… well… when he and Cook started, was just another bit of incentive. There were things that needed to be said.

“Uh, Cook?”

Cook jumped a little, his wide deer in headlights look actually kind of cute, if a bit confusing. “Yeah?”

“Can we talk?”

He noticed the way the pen that Cook had been playing with froze mid twirl but Cook nodded either way. “Yeah, we probably should.”

They were in a room all by themselves, but with the technicians and interns running around it didn’t feel like they were alone at all. Archie thought about asking to go get some food or something or maybe going back to a Starbucks. Both felt entirely silly. He wanted to do this somewhere _private_.

“You think we can go home?”

Cook nodded, no smile on his face. He looked more like he was facing the firing squad. Archie tried to avoid thinking through what that could mean. Instead he pulled together his paperwork and wrote a note for Lars, the guy who had been helping him with the piano earlier.

They’d shared a car, which might have provided a good place to start but it was completely silent save for the CD that Archie knew Cook only had in his car to comfort Archie. He hummed a little to the chorus of ‘If it Kills Me’ but couldn’t bring himself to sing the words, the truth just a little too much for him to handle at the moment.

When they got home he walked into the front room and put his messenger bag on the table, not wanting to go to the room to put it in its  proper place. He noticed that Cook was following his lead, not moving forward or back without Archie doing it first. It all felt surreal and silly and he would laugh if he could just swallow around the block in his throat.

Talk, he needed to talk to him about a lot of things, he knew that. There were apologies and answers to questions and even more questions to ask but he was suddenly tired of talking. He shifted all his weight forward to his toes and then back to his heels. He stepped towards Cook and Cook looked like he would step back but Archie moved faster.

He went with his instincts and wrapped a hand around Cook’s neck, pushed himself up to bridge the height gap and kissed him. It was desperate, he knew it, the hope that this would say what he didn’t know how to in words. His other hand wrapped around Cook’s neck as well and he twined his fingers together.

Cook reacted immediately, leaning forward and down for easier access. His hands didn’t quite make it to Archie’s neck but his fingers played with the hair just above Archie’s ears. Archie sighed into the kiss; the feeling of the pads of Cook’s fingers on his ears was something he never knew to be so comforting, the sound of Cook’s hitched breath made his chest hurt.

By the time they separated for air, both were bright red and Archie felt so warm he thought his skin would burst into flames any minute. He couldn’t help but move his hands down to skate along the sleeves of Cook’s shirt. Take in the way Cook was breathing, the way his skin smelled like sweat and the fabric softener that Archie had bought the week before.

“So…?” Cook asked, sounding mystified and panting. “That was what you wanted to talk about?”

Archie went stock still, had to take his hands back and move an inch back just to gather back any hopes of focusing on what was going on. He could see Cook move back too, as if respecting Archie’s space or just needing his own, he didn’t know.

He inhaled, his heart still beating too hard in his chest but he knew that if there was a moment that needed this it was right then. “Thank you.”

Cook tilted his head. “You’re welcome?”

“You’ve...” Archie paused again. Words didn’t seem to be coming together in his brain, but that wasn’t new. “You’ve let me into your house when I really didn’t deserve it. I mean. I … I dumped you. For a really stupid reason, and I regretted it so badly from the second I did it. I wanted to call you but I didn’t. And I wanted to … I missed you.

“And then I needed you and all of a sudden you dropped everything and you were there. You didn’t need to be. You just were. You were _everything_ when I was giving you nothing.”

“You didn’t need to give me anything,” Cook broke in quietly. He had inched his way closer but Archie didn’t mind it at all.

“I don’t know what I would have done. I don’t know where I would have gone.”

Cook was giving him an intense stare. “You can always come back here. Anytime.”

“Because it’s home,” Archie said, hoping with everything that he didn’t let his voice waver. Hoping that he wasn’t misreading things. “I get to come home.”

When he looked back at Cook, he saw the tears in the corner of his eyes. “Yeah, you come home, Arch. Whenever you want.”

Archie kissed the corner of each of Cook’s eyes, then his lips. He pulled back and hugged him as tight as he could. He didn’t know how long he had been holding his breath, but when he exhaled it was a giant weight off of his back.

*

It was ridiculously appropriate that after weeks of _wanting_ something, he got it and couldn’t even enjoy it.

Well, not enjoy it _entirely_ , because Archie looked relaxed and happy in the kitchen making dinner and dancing along to the music in his head. He stopped a few times to give Cook a silly grin and even a quick peck on the lips as he had spare moments between putting things in the oven or the microwave.

Every smile and kiss left Cook feeling more and more mixed. His stomach churned. He needed to tell Archie about the conversation with his dad. A small selfish part of him wished he hadn’t seen Jeff that day, so that he could just move on with this Archie. But mostly he knew that what he’d done still needed to be addressed.

He told himself he would wait until dinner because he didn’t want to take away the first time Archie looked happy in weeks. He knew he was lying to himself.

He focused on the smell of the food, not even sure what Archie was making. Savory though, and only the smallest bit of spice. He guessed he could ask him but that would run the risk of distracting him and Cook wouldn’t want that.

“ _I could hold you in my arms, I could hold you forever. I could hold you in my arms, I could hold you forever._ ” Cook sang along with Archie softly, setting up the table while Archie finished the food.

But then dinner was done, the dishes soaking in the sink and Cook couldn’t think of another valid reason to _not_ tell Archie, except the obvious. It was going to hurt Archie. It was going to take away the smile from his face and it was sure has hell going to change whatever they had gotten back in the last few hours.

Archie suggested a movie, Cook nodded but when they got to the living room he stopped Archie’s questions about which one it should be.

“I talked to your dad today.”

“M-my dad?” Archie asked, looking up from the row of Blu-Rays. His eyes crinkled and his lips pursed in the closest he ever really got to angry. “Why? When? How?”

Cook licked his lower lip and bit the bullet. “He called me a few days ago, because you haven’t been answering his calls. We met up at Starbucks.”

“You said yes to that?” Archie wasn’t looking at Cook, tense line of his profile making Cook regret even bringing it up.

“Yes. To talk.”

Archie was silent.

Cook took a few tentative steps towards him and Archie looked up at him. Cook reached out to put a hand on Archie’s chin and was relieved when he didn’t flinch. He pulled the chin towards him and kissed him, half apologetic and half comforting.

Archie’s eyes were wide and shiny, making Cook feel like even more of an ass. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him you would talk to him when you were ready.”

That seemed to be the right answer as Archie relaxed slightly.  “Okay.”

“But,” Cook swallowed. “I think you should talk to him.”

Archie’s eyes flashed with hurt or maybe anger. “Why? Why would I want to do that for him? When he preached to me about moral propriety and then ruined everything? _Why_?”

To be honest, Cook didn’t have a response for that. He knew he was treading on an exposed nerve when it came down to it, but he also couldn’t let this be the way they started out again.

“Why do you want to hold on to it?” Cook asked. “What does that do for you? You’ve been walking around broken for weeks and letting him win. He fucked up. Royally screwed everything and I’ll be the first to say it. But he’s still the guy you’ve spent your life idolizing. So maybe… just maybe… you need to say goodbye to that so you can move on. Not for him, for you.”

Whatever reaction he was expecting it was definitely not the small laugh that escaped Archie, nor for him to lean in and kiss Cook like he meant it.

“You must have really missed me if you were watching that much day time pop psychology.”

Cook exhaled a laugh. “Well, you left me with very little to do. I’d planned three weeks of beating you at Guitar Hero.”

They kissed again and something in Cook began to unwind. Archie pulled back after a second, looking serious even with his mussed up hair and slightly puffy lips.

“I’m not ready to talk to my dad.”

Cook nodded. “You don’t have to be yet.”

“But,” Archie smiled again, and it was the best thing Cook had seen in months. “I might be up for a game of Guitar Hero.”

*

When, a few months later, Archie was ready, he met his dad at a Starbucks. Cook sat beside him the whole time.

 

Diane Court: Nobody thinks it will work, do they?  
Lloyd Dobbler: No. You just described every great success story


End file.
